Seb had been surprised, shocked even, by the Englishman’s brutal eruption. More than that, he was disturbed by the discovery that Rosie Palmer’s friendship – relationship? – with Karl Friedlander had engendered such strong feelings in her family. Friedlander had not made this clear.
Did the family’s hostility amount to anti-Semitic bigotry or was there something else about Friedlander? Had Seb completely misjudged his character? He had to accept the possibility. The interview had been conducted late at night and he had had a few drinks. Well, Friedlander certainly had more questions to answer.
As Seb drove northwards into Schwabing, no words passed between him and Winter, but he could sense the other man’s self-satisfied smirk and had a powerful desire to smack it from his face.
They pulled up outside the apartment block. Both got out of the car, entered the building and walked side by side up the stairway.
There was no answer to their knock. They hammered harder. Still nothing. Seb tried the handle, but it was locked.
Without waiting for Seb’s say-so, Winter hurled himself at the door, shoulder first. He howled in pain but the door was well built and didn’t give a centimetre. The noise, however, roused the Friedlanders’ immediate neighbour in the next apartment. She was a woman with grey hair and stern features. She wore a ragged floral dress and kitchen apron and stood with arms crossed, staring at them with a sour expression.
‘We are looking for Herr Friedlander,’ Seb said. ‘The young one, Karl Friedlander.’
‘I guessed you might be. What are you – cops or debt collectors?’
‘Police.’
‘Well you’re too late. He’s gone. They all have, first thing this morning. All three of them. Struggled downstairs with their suitcases and went off down the street, looking around them like thieves.’
‘Do you know where they went?’
‘I asked them that. Holiday, they said. That’s a laugh. They’ve skipped out of the country like the rats they are. Good riddance to them.’
‘You didn’t get on?’
‘Think about it, Officer. You know what they are, don’t you?’
‘Damn it,’ Seb said.
‘They’ve done a runner.’ Winter was rubbing his shoulder.
*
The Friedlanders – Karl, his mother Miriam and father Benjamin – never stood a chance of making it. They were picked up by uniformed police when their train stopped at Freiburg, but they wouldn’t have got across the border anyway, because they didn’t have the exit visas necessary to leave Germany, nor entry visas for Switzerland and only Karl had a passport.
Within three hours they were back at the Police Presidium in Munich. The parents were slung into separate cells to await interrogation and their son was taken into a chilly cellar room with a table and three chairs to be grilled by Seb and Winter.
Seb led the questioning. ‘What were you trying to do, Friedlander? Are you insane? Have you fallen out of love with the Fatherland?’
‘I was scared. So were Mother and Father. Please, sir, won’t you let them go – they have nothing to do with any of this.’
‘Any of what?’
‘These suspicions that you have. They were just afraid – afraid for me. I am their only child.’
‘They have questions to answer, as do you, Herr Friedlander. Attempting to leave the country does not help to make you look innocent. Nor will your parents serve you well as alibis after this. Perhaps you could tell me more about the evening when Miss Palmer was killed. Where exactly were you?’
‘I told you, Inspector Wolff, I was at home.’
‘You’ll need to do better than that.’
‘But what else can I say if it is the truth? I promise you, I have done nothing wrong. I have committed no crime. I have lost the love of my life.’ His eyes were wide with terror and horror, flicking between Seb and Winter.
‘Let’s go back a bit,’ Seb said. ‘Tell me more about your time in England. Why does Miss Palmer’s brother dislike you so much?’
‘Edward? Why are you mentioning him? Is he here, in Munich?’
Winter entered the fray, banging his fist on the table. ‘Just answer the question, you murdering bastard. Captain Palmer hates you and you clearly know why. He hates you because he knows what you are. Did you do something to his sister in England?’
Friedlander was shaking. His mouth was moving but no words were forthcoming.
Winter rose to his feet. ‘Answer me! You dishonoured the poor girl.’ He lunged forward and hit Friedlander in the face with a piledriver punch, making him recoil, throwing him and the chair backwards to the floor. The young man scrabbled about, dazed yet instinctively trying to get to his feet and back away from his assailant. Winter was about to hit him again, punching downwards, but Seb grabbed his arm and held it back.
‘Enough, Sergeant, that’s enough.’
‘We should kill him now. Save the executioner a job.’
Seb helped Friedlander back onto the chair. He was bleeding from the nose, his eyes were bloodshot and he was groggy. ‘Are you all right, Herr Friedlander?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, I think so.’
Seb handed him his handkerchief, which was clean having been left out for him by his mother, as she did every morning. ‘Here, wipe your nose.’ The only thing on the table was a glass of water. Seb pushed it towards Friedlander. ‘Take a sip and settle down.’ He looked towards Winter and made a downward motion with the flat of his hand. Sit, Winter, calm yourself.
‘Now then, Friedlander, tell me more about England and your time there. Something happened between you and the Palmers. What exactly passed between you? Did you have sex with Miss Palmer?’
‘Yes, we made love.’
‘You raped her,’ Winter said. ‘A girl like that would never consent to sleep with vermin like you.’
Seb really wished Winter was elsewhere; he was not making this any easier. And yet perhaps there was some curious benefit to his presence. He was confusing and discomfiting Friedlander.
‘Do you recall what you said to me last night, Friedlander? You said you had not had sexual intercourse with Miss Palmer, that you both wanted her to be a virgin when eventually you married. And yet now you say you made love. Were you lying before – or now?’
‘I loved her with all my heart and she loved me. We kissed. We caressed. Is that not making love?’
‘And yet she wasn’t a virgin.’
The words hung heavy in the cool air.
Friedlander was shaking. He was a good-looking young man with dark, softly curling hair. Maybe not athletic like the young woman’s brother, but he had smooth skin and a pleasing figure and face. It was quite conceivable to Seb that Rosie Palmer or any other young woman could find him attractive. Yet not now, perhaps. Now he looked broken.
‘Well?’
‘I . . . you confuse me . . . I don’t know what you mean . . .’
‘I mean the pathologist has testified that Rosie Palmer was not a virgin. She had experienced sexual intercourse in her life, but probably not in the course of the attack, for there was no semen.’
‘Is this true?’
‘So it wasn’t you?’
Tears were rolling down the man’s cheeks. It was no longer his life that hung in the balance, but everything he believed in and stood for, or so it seemed to Seb. Love. Fidelity. Trust. All gone.
Either that or he was a more accomplished liar and fraud than Seb would have credited.
‘So let us go back to your time in England. You wooed Miss Palmer and she responded to your approaches. Let us put the subject of sex to one side for the moment and merely say that you romanced the girl and told her you loved her and she led you to believe that she loved you back and would keep herself pure for you. Is that how it was?’
‘Yes.’ His voice was choked.
‘But her family disapproved?’
He nodded. ‘I was the wrong class, the wrong race, the wrong religion. But Rosie didn’t care about such things. Her family forbade her to see me, but they couldn’t keep us apart. And then her brother came for me. He was with a friend, another young soldier from his regiment. They came to my rooms in Cambridge with clubs and beat me senseless. I still have the marks if you’d care to look.’
‘That won’t be necessary at the moment.’
‘I was in hospital for a week.’
‘And so you took revenge by killing the person they loved?’
‘No, of course not. I didn’t even report Edward Palmer or his friend to the police, for that would have hurt Rosie – and I would never have done anything to harm her.’
‘Strange that her family allowed her to come to Munich when you were here.’
Friedlander shook his head. Blood dripped from his nose and mingled with his tears. He held the handkerchief to his face again. ‘They didn’t know I was here. Rosie begged her family to allow her to come to Munich because this was where some of her friends came. She didn’t tell them that I would be here.’
There was a sharp rap at the door, which immediately opened and a uniformed officer entered. ‘Forgive me for interrupting, Inspector. You are wanted urgently by Herr Ruff.’
‘Stay here, Sergeant Winter.’
‘No, sir, I’ll come with you.’
It wasn’t worth arguing with the man. Seb nodded to the uniformed officer. ‘Perhaps you would watch the room while we’re gone, Officer.’
‘Yes, sir.’
*
Deputy Police President Thomas Ruff was in his large and rather ornate office up on the fifth floor of the presidium. He was pacing, but stopped as the door opened. Seeing that Seb was accompanied by his political shadow, Ruff instantly went through the Heil Hitler rigmarole with them.
‘Please sit down,’ he said at last. ‘There has been an important development.’
Seb took a seat in front of Ruff’s oversized desk. Everything was too big here. A large window gave out on to Ettstrasse, filling the eyeline with the monumental eastern flank of the church of St Michael’s.
‘A witness has come forward, a maidservant who knows Karl Friedlander by sight. She was travelling home on the tram on the night of Miss Palmer’s death – about nine thirty – and saw Friedlander at the southern end of Ludwigstrasse, walking hurriedly in the same direction. As she watched, he turned right just before the Wittelsbach Palace.’
‘I knew it,’ Winter said. ‘I knew he was lying. That puts him right in the vicinity of Villa Saphir, the Regensdorf house on Karolinenplatz.’
‘Not so fast,’ Seb said. ‘Who is this maid? How does she know Friedlander? And why has she come forward?’
‘Her name is Marlene Popp. You will be able to interview her in due course and all your questions will be answered to your satisfaction. But for the moment, we have a more pressing matter: Friedlander must be charged with murder without delay so that I can convey the news to the Führer. So go now, Inspector Wolff, and formalise the charge.’
‘Would it not be worth waiting an hour or two until after I have spoken to Fräulein Popp? How does she even know that Friedlander is a potential suspect?’
‘All in good time. This is an international incident and there is not a moment to lose.’ Ruff stepped forward and shook Seb by the hand. ‘And may I be the first to congratulate you, Inspector, for bringing this case to such a satisfactory and speedy conclusion.’
‘But what exactly have I done?’
‘Oh, you realised that Miss Mitford was the key to the case. She pointed you in the direction of Friedlander and he has condemned himself by his own actions. This new witness is the final nail in his coffin. Well done, Wolff. And you, Sergeant Winter. Well done both of you.’